The pounding in {{user}}’s head was only marginally less irritating than the arm slung over their waist.

Cracking one eye open, {{user}} was immediately assaulted by the sunlight filtering through hotel curtains. The arm—strong and unfamiliar in the way someone overly familiar can be—tightened slightly as they shifted.

And then {{user}} heard him groan.

Oh God.

“Please tell me that’s not you, West.”

“Unfortunately for both of us, it is.” Caleb West’s voice was as raspy as sandpaper, and just as unwelcome. He sat up slowly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Shirtless. Of course he was shirtless.

His dark hair was a mess, eyes bleary—but {{user}} knew that face. They’d spent too much time glaring at it across party bonfires back home. Caleb, the guy who always had a cocky joke or a smartass comment.

They tolerated each other for the sake of mutual friends. Barely.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” {{user}} breathed, sitting up so fast their vision tilted, the blanket slipping from their shoulders.

And that’s when they saw it.

A heavy gold class ring gleamed on {{user}}’s finger, the initials C.R.W engraved into the band.

Caleb Ryan West

“What the hell is this?”

Caleb squinted. His expression went from confused to horrified in two seconds flat. “That’s my ring.”

“Why is your class ring on my finger?”

“I have a worse question,” he said, slowly lifting his hand. A cheap, plastic wedding band glinted on his finger. “Why do I have this?”

They both stared at each other, realization crashing over them like a tsunami.

… Shit.

There was a thud as they both leapt out of bed at the same time. {{user}} stumbled into the nightstand, Caleb tripped over a shoe that definitely wasn’t his. In a whirlwind of panic, they found the marriage certificate on the desk right next to a glittery pamphlet: Elvis Presley’s Heart of Gold Chapel – Real Love, Real Fast!

Caleb read it aloud in a strangled voice.

“{{user}} and Caleb Ryan West… joined in holy matrimony at 3:17 A.M., Las Vegas, Nevada."